


Miracles (When You Believe)

by FairyQueen (etoilecourageuse)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Azkaban, Christmas, F/M, First Meetings, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, Imprisonment, Loneliness, Love, Memories, Mini Fest 2016, Wartime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9290231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/FairyQueen
Summary: Christmas time has always been special to Narcissa and Lucius, but how can she possibly go on now, knowing that her husband is gone?





	

Christmas had always been special to them. Even when they had been children, many years before even Lucius had for the first time stepped into the solemn halls of Hogwarts, Narcissa had often found herself begging her parents to merge both families’ celebrations into one, often much to her elder sisters’ chagrin, as they were not quite as fond of the Malfoys as she. 

But they could not understand; it had been Christmas after all, a family gathering, when they had met, Lucius four years old and Narcissa only three, soon after their introduction secretly leaving the adults’ party to play within her room, merely the two of them, constantly giggling at their mischief and hoping that they would not be discovered for many hours. 

Christmas had always been special to them, as they had shared many firsts during this most beautiful time of the year. Only once during their time at school had they spent the holidays at Hogwarts, nearly alone in the castle, for a reason neither of them could remember at this present day. They had been long betrothed to one another then, deeply in love since the moment they both had come to realise what it meant to love, truly, yet at this point only the people closest to them had known of their relationship. 

It had been nearly midnight on Christmas Eve when they had withdrawn from the Great Hall and walked through the dungeons holding hands, feeling so liberated as in that night they needn’t worry about secrecy; they needn’t worry about curious eyes following and waiting to discover them, eager to invade their privacy for brief moments of strange pleasure. They’d stopped mere steps away from their common room, looking so deeply into each other’s eyes and smiling, smiling with such bliss, such… For this moment, Narcissa had forgotten everything around her, had forgotten about the school, forgotten about what might have concerned her five minutes before, forgotten even about Christmas… Time had seemed to stand still as Lucius took her face into his hands, as for the first time their lips found each other, and the world around her began to spin… 

Of course Narcissa had envisioned what it would be like to kiss him, to kiss her Lucius at last, had envisioned so much more, but not expected it in this moment, would devour every second of it… Beautiful… It had been so beautiful, so much more than what she had dared to imagine… It had been so beautiful… 

Countless kisses had followed in the months and years after, and none of them had lacked the first one’s passion, none of them had lacked the love, and yet… Yet it had been so special… That moment in the corridor had been so special, was so precious to her… And it would always be, to Narcissa and to Lucius both. Always. She could see within his eyes that he, too, remembered this day so fondly… 

Christmas had always been special to them. Narcissa had desired nothing more than to get married in winter, had desired nothing more than for her wedding to take place as close as possible to the holidays she cherished so dearly, and her parents had granted her wish, reluctantly at first, but in the full awareness of how much it would mean to their daughter. 

One week. Narcissa Black had shed her old name to become a true Malfoy one week before Christmas Day, at the age of eighteen. How happy she had been… How beyond happy she had been, feeling as though at last she had come home in the moment her husband had wrapped her arms about her waist, never to let go. How happy she had been, on this day, and so many days to come… 

Their love had never ceased, had never faded as others had, would persist through decades and centuries alike, and never diminish, never… They gave each other such strength, such hold… Never would they grow apart. Never. 

Christmas had always been special to them. Hadn’t it also been so shortly after the holidays when she had realised that she was with child, that from this moment on their world would be turned upside down? How happy Lucius, too, had been when she had told him, laughing with such joy and twirling her within his arms… Christmas… Christmas had always been special to them…

Even many years after, when childhood and youth seemed to lay so far behind them, it would never cease to lose its beauty, would never cease to lose its very own magic, a magic that she found difficult to put into words. No one in her family but Lucius had ever understood her adoration for Christmas, but how could they? How could they possibly understand when Narcissa found herself incapable of explaining, when it nearly seemed like a secret, only to be shared by her and her husband? 

Christmas had always been special to them… 

It had always been special to them, so special, so beautiful… How they both had looked forward to the celebrations, sharing furtive glances in silent anticipation. Even he… Even Lucius, solemn Lucius who had been so serious throughout nearly his entire life… Even he seemed to change, sometimes nearly bursting with unspoken enthusiasm about the holidays. 

It had always been so special to them… And it had been so beautiful, so special, and so beyond beautiful… Over all these years, it had been… But now? Now, so suddenly, it all seemed forgotten. Now, it felt as though those memories were merely dreams, visions and delusions of a past life, a life that could not possibly have been theirs… 

The war had changed them, had changed them both and nearly everything besides, yet never their love, never their adoration for one another, and never Christmas… Christmas would still remind them of their carefree days before darkness had fallen, would still remind them of their youth, when they had still felt as though they could conquer the world. What foolish children they had been, believing to be invincible… 

Christmas had at times been their only light, their only hope in these times of terror… It had given them strength… Until fate had torn them apart. Until the Dementors had come for them one summer’s night and taken him from her by force, scarcely granting them the chance to say good-bye. Fate had torn them apart, had so cruelly put an end to what she had believed to be eternal, to their togetherness that had given them both such hope… 

She had been alone for too many months now, had scarcely spoken as who should she speak to? Her son was at school, seeming to avoid a return to his home, and nearly all of her letters would remain unanswered, while her sister… No. Loneliness had become Narcissa’s constant companion over time, which she had once believed to be sheer impossible. She dreaded the weeks that lay ahead of her, dreaded the holidays that were to come so much faster than she dared to think, and scarcely recognised herself, as without her husband there seemed to be nothing left of her former childlike excitement, of… She dreaded Christmas, more than anything else. 

Christmas had always been special to them. But now? Now, what should she do? What should she do without him, without her Lucius? They had shared many firsts during this time, the time of miracles, but would it be over now? Would it all be over now, would what they had built up over all those years be destroyed within merely a night, the night in which they had taken him? Would he ever be free, would she ever hold him again, feel his skin against hers? Would he ever be the same, after…? Or was this the end, the end of what she had believed to be a fairy tale, the end of what she had so foolishly believed to be eternal? 

She should have known. She should have known that one day… How foolish it had been to banish reality from her mind in a way like this, even if only for days at a time. How foolish it had been to… 

The memories were supposed to give her strength, were supposed to give her hope in a time that seemed beyond hopeless, and yet they caused her nothing but pain, nothing but unspeakable agony as the uncertainty seemed to burn her from the inside. 

Once, only once before had they been apart for longer than perhaps a couple of weeks, during her final year at Hogwarts when she had been a foolish child and felt so lonely at school without him despite the constant exchange of letters, even amongst her then closest friends. But hadn’t she had their wedding to anticipate, hadn’t she been blind, closed her eyes to all the darkness around her? Hadn’t… This was different, this was so different to her naïve, childlike yearning, this was so different to everything she had ever experienced… 

They could not survive without one another. They could not survive without one another, had spoken the words as their vows, sealed the bond with their eyes and a kiss… They could not survive without one another, and now? Now… 

It had felt like a nightmare to her at first, a terrible dream she would soon wake from, as she had often dreamed in these times of war, and always awoken nearly breathless, forcing herself to swallow down her concern and agony only for Lucius’ sake, as under no circumstances she would worry him further. 

Christmas had always been special to them… But how… How could she possibly go on without him now, how could she possibly pretend that it still had a meaning when he was so far from her, slowly withering away as the Dementors would so mercilessly drain any remaining life from him, devouring his suffering? How? Wouldn’t it be a disgrace? 

Narcissa dreaded the holidays, dreaded them more than anything else, more than even the war. The war… It had become a firm part of her life, of all their lives, such as the fear, the worry, and the grief. But Christmas? Christmas that had once meant everything, that would now merely mirror the past and not… 

A disgrace… A disgrace to him, to them, to everything they had once cherished so dearly… It was a… But perhaps… Perhaps it was the only way, perhaps once more the holidays were their only hope, their only glimmer of light in the eternal night, perhaps once more… 

She had once made a silent vow that she would not surrender, that no matter what the future was to bring she would not surrender, that she would not allow weakness to take hold of her, and to drown her. She would not surrender. She would not surrender! Her sorrow would not claim her, not now and not in the future, she would remain strong for him, strong for Lucius… Because why should this be the end? Hadn’t they been forced to conquer tragedy after tragedy over the course of their lives, and hadn’t they emerged victorious, always victorious? Hadn’t they survived so many years over the course of the war and always gone on? So why… Why should this be the end and not just another trial, one more trial of their love, and their strength? Why should this be the end? 

She would not surrender… Neither of them would surrender, and what would it do to despair, what would it do to lose herself in agony and distant memories? She would not surrender, needed to focus, to focus on his return… His return. It was naïve, perhaps, to believe in his return – most certainly foolish, as how would she stand the disappointment, the grief if he wouldn’t? – but she did, she _needed_ to believe, because how else would she be able to cope? How else would she… She needed to believe… He would return. This was not the end, this was not the end, this was not the end! He would return! 

He would return, whether it would take weeks, months, years… He would return, and Narcissa would hold him within her arms again, would speak to him and receive a response, would look into his eyes and see him, recognise her Lucius within the wide, grey ocean of his gaze. He would return… And even if it weren’t to be like before, even if prison and the war were to leave their marks on him, on both of them… They would be reunited. And never, never would she lose hope, as what worth would it be to live without hope, without anything at all? They would be reunited. This was not the end… 

Christmas had always been special to them. She would not expect a miracle, not this time, would not expect to find him next to her on Christmas Eve unless perhaps in her imagination, but she would honour it, would honour the celebrations in his name and not withdraw into loneliness as she had done so many times in the past months. She would honour it, would honour their first Christmas apart, pray that it remained the only one… 

This was not the end… They would be reunited, whether through a miracle or not, this was not the end… This was not the end. They were strong, so strong together, and perhaps capable of conquering the world, indeed. Christmas had always been special to them, and it would never lose its importance; Narcissa would think of him that night, would close her eyes and focus merely on him, as though to conjure his spirit… And perhaps he, too, believed, perhaps he, too, would allow his mind to drift and see his wife before his very eyes; perhaps he would feel her love and draw strength from it, strength to go on, to survive his time in prison, so far from her, so far from… Perhaps he would sense the spirit of a time that had been more important to them than anything else, see the faint glimmer of light in the darkness… Perhaps he would experience a miracle, after all. 

This was not the end.


End file.
